Of Sonnets,

One net son,

Stone nots,


Onset tones,


Soft font







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Mad Ithaca


Chronicles of an endgame sour the day,

the last cormorant glides home half-asleep.

mauve tapering headland not faraway

Is darker; the treachery still indiscrete.

I trail past the quiet, dark caravan,

chest pounding with sorrow; tried to walk it

off but it don’t go – a woe-begotten

rotten vixen’s smashed my fragile heart.

On the rise, I make up the chintzy night scene

of Port Ithaca’s tourist hostelries.

Thronging poached Grockles being obscene

Python Lee Jacksons in a broken dream

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Lucky Little Lady


The Tamarind dropped anchor and despatched a

purple emissary

who announced the fate of the sweet, eyed,

lovely Maiden

from the coast of Malibar

to the swelling throng on the quay.

It appeared that, for once, the trades had been kind:

the Pirates of Somali

were vacationing in Bali

English: Balinese stone carvings found in Ubud.

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08801 Grand Canyon Historic- Fred Kabotie Pain...


Lopsided head, dead on the sloping strand.

Smooth, sea polished shingle sizzles around

The victim of a mindless, callous hunt.

Transparently, he was born a mutant runt

Misfortune dogged him from his strangled birth

Until annihilation put an end to Bert

When it came the blow was random

His assailants worked in tandem

And cornered him beneath the pier

And despatched him swift without a care

The denounement was not so smooth

As they kicked him in the ocean crude

Tefal sank but not to the bottom

His killers thought he was forgotten

But he was borne by longshore and by rip

And in Pevensey he rested in deep silt

That is until a passing fisher digging for lug

His preserved remains out he dug

‘What’s up’ said Tefal examining his head

‘You’ with saline brevity the fisher said

‘These twenty years I have been there

Dead and happy…

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Gift Horse


English: Detail of a painted figure of a caval...

greygray windlessness; car doors pound

indonesian summer supper

for the liberal party on the road

to greatwar to end all wars forever

hoseasoning homeward after crickets

over land and treeless villages

redsails on the lampshade sundown

silently through the porchway

eavesdropping evenings gentle snore

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